


I Can't Love You in the Dark

by easilyaddicted



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotions, F/M, Feels, I'm Sorry, Not A Happy Ending, The tags are kind of horrendous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5722036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easilyaddicted/pseuds/easilyaddicted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader has to tell Sam, her boyfriend of four years, that she just doesn't love him anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Love You in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally my first fanfic so it may not meet certain standards and I'm sorry. But constructive criticism is very welcome
> 
> This was written with inspiration from the song "Someday Love Will Find You" by Journey, but it's based off Adele's song, "Love in the Dark."
> 
> I don't own any characters or the name of the song; just "my" character.

I didn't think it was gonna be this hard. I thought I was saving him. But the broken puppy-dog-look he was throwing in my direction was telling me that I was doing the exact opposite. It just couldn't work anymore. I was too broken and both of us knew it but neither wanted to admit it. We gave it our best shot, but we missed our target; our love wasn't in the cards. 

“Please (y/n)…please don't do this. I love you too much. We can still make this work. W-we just have to try..try harder,” he pleads, big, hazel eyes brimming with unshed tears.

I sat down on the motel bed softly, the motion causing his wide, sagging shoulders to sway a bit. His eyes followed me the whole way down and I couldn't handle the pain they held, the pain I caused, so I laid my hands on his forearm and leaned my head on his shoulder. Why was he making it harder than it already was? 

“Sam, if we try any harder we’re gonna exhaust ourselves to the point of never loving again. And that would be far worse than me leaving.”

“But I love you (y/n). And you love me. Isn't that enough to just try and stick together for a little bit longer?”

I shake my head slightly and lean up to look at him. “That's just it Sam. I love you…but I'm not in love with you anymore.” He goes to say something, but I cut him off before he can. 

“And I get that you don't understand why that's not synonymous. But it's not. And you'll finally see it when you find someone that loves you, and is in love with you, in a way I just can't anymore,” I whisper softly. “In a way that heals you and saves you.”

“Are you fixing to feed me the ‘It's not you, it's me,’ line?” He asks the question with a small scoff at the end. His elbows are now on his spread knees, his large fist wrapped in his large hand, and pushing into his lips. He doesn't want me to touch him. I laugh weakly. 

“As clichéd as it is, it's true in this case.” He wouldn't look at me now. “Baby, it wasn't you who caused me to stop loving you. That was my doing, and my doing alone. And it's kind of shitty trying to assure you of that as I'm trying to leave. But it's true. It's time we admit that I'm just too broken for a relationship, especially with someone as amazing and full of love as you.

“I just have way too many issues that I should have dealt with before I thought about getting serious with someone. And it was selfish of me to do so before I had taken care of them. And I'm so, so sorry Sam. I'm so sorry,” I sob. 

He rotates to face me now and wraps his arms around my shaking form. This wasn't supposed to happen. It was supposed to be a salt ‘n’ burn type thing: go in, get it over with, try and clean up the mess, then leave and don't worry about turning around. But I always did cry easily. And knowing I was causing him more pain than I was taking with me was killing me. 

He holds me while I keep crying and every now and then I hear his own sniffle. When I'm calmed enough, I untangle myself from him and reach over to the bedside table in between the two beds to grab a handful of tissues. I hand a few to him and a small, fond smile graces my face when he takes them, no hesitation. He never was afraid to acknowledge his feelings in front of anyone. 

“God…..I really am an asshole. I tell you I'm leaving and you comfort me anyways.” I chuckle a little and look down at my knotting hands in my lap. He doesn't say anything back, he just keeps looking at the floor. After a while, the silence is crushing my lungs and grinding my teeth together, so I stand to go leave. I don't get far before I hear the small, “wait,” leave Sam’s mouth. 

I hesitate slightly, afraid he'll try and say something to make me stay. And I know he will. I turn around anyways, but this time I sit across from him on the other bed, where Dean sleeps. 

Dean. 

I was hoping to be gone before Dean came back from the bar. I couldn't take two hurt, betrayed looks from both of the Winchester duo. Sam’s look was painful and agonizing; it made my insides twist and rut in an extremely excruciating way. But from both? I'd rather have a bullet between my eyes. 

Our knees almost brush this way; our long legs always a problem we laughed about. He always liked my body. A tall (for my gender) runner’s body, lithe and wrapped in lean muscle from hunting. He adored my height, said he didn't have to bend down so far to kiss me, or hug me. 

We sit there in silence again; him staring at the floor, me staring at him waiting for him to say something. I don't think he ever will and I almost go to stand up again, but then he began to speak. 

“Do you remember the first time we met?” he asks, still not looking at me. 

I'm caught off guard by the question at first, but I slowly nod my head and quietly say, “Yeah.”

“You worked in a bakery in Laguna Beach. Dean and I were there for a surfer’s ghost drowning residents. And before we left Dean wanted pie, of course. We stopped because the window said ‘Best Pie in Laguna!’ and we saw the sheer amount of people in there. Dean forced me to stop and get pie with him.” I laughed slightly. Dean did love him some pie. 

“And when we walked in, there you were. Busting tables, serving customers, dancing, and belting the lyrics to ‘Summer Breeze’ by Seals and Crofts at the top of your lungs, performing for them. The notes were beautiful; me and Dean didn't see a single unsmiling face including our own. How you were working and dancing, I hadn't seen your face yet. But when you turned around…God…” He looks up now and right at me. 

I looked down, embarrassed. I knew exactly what he was talking about. He probably thought I was hideous I scold myself. 

“You were breathtaking, (y/n). When you turned around, your hair followed after you in a wall of (y/h/c) silk with bright teal streaks in it. It was so long then.” His hand lifts slight like he wants to rake it through my mane. It stays in his lap. “The sun hit right across your cheeks and eyes lightening them up like individuals suns. And you'd looked so carefree and luminous, and just so damn beautiful. 

“You turned and saw us and it was immediate; you danced over to us in a break in the music and told us to sit, handed us menus, and said you’d be right with us.”

He shifts so he's leaning up and his arms are extended, hands on his knees. He brings one up to push his hair out of his face then back behind his ears. 

“I remember Dean’s mouth was hanging open because of what you were wearing and how flawless you looked in it. I couldn't stop staring at you myself. 

“You were wearing a sarong with greens and blues in it around your waist. And even though it was tied tightly and appropriately, the slit came high up on your thigh. You were wearing a worn, light brown, v-neck Lynyrd Skynyrd crop top with the sleeves cut off. All you had on under it was a simple black bikini and thin black flip-flops. 

“You had bracelets all over both wrists and golden bands up around your right upper arm. You had your nose ring in, a simple gold hoop pierced through your left nostril. All your earrings in, including your industrial. And you had no makeup on, and all the sun-kissed skin you were showing was driving my crazy. Your long legs and cute little stomach.” He smiles and licks his lips.

“I remember I was running late that morning, my morning surf taking a little too long. I had to throw on what I had in my bag I kept at the bakery. But it didn't have any real undergarments in it so I just stayed in my bikini. It wasn't unusual for me to dress like that though.” I say, laughing remembering how many compliments I got that day. But I stop when I remember I didn't believe a single one. He's only trying to flatter me to stay. There's nothing little about me. He continued. 

“You came back over and asked what we would like. Dean laid on the charm so thick I thought you were gonna fall over. But you didn't pay him any attention once. You just looked at me smiling the whole time. After you took our orders and our menus, you walked back to the kitchen to start making our coffee. 

“As soon as you sat the coffee down, ‘Hummingbird’ by Seals and Crofts came on. You must have really loved them because that's when you sang the loudest and danced the most. I could barely concentrate on eating with your soprano notes caressing my brain. Each time you were done singing everyone clapped and cheered. You looked so happy.”

“Wasn't it amazing what I could hide behind my smiles and singing and dancing?” I asked, disgusted with what I had become over the years. 

“I knew then that I wanted to get to know you better. And when we left I promised Dean that I was coming back before we left. And I did. 

“That evening I came back right at closing hours. The doors were open, airing out the room, and there you were; wiping down tables and singing ‘The Boy Down the Road.’ That's how I approached you: asking you about your obsession with Seals and Crofts.”

“And I told you that my mom had been just as amazed by it too, —

“It was the only thing that could get me to sleep when I was younger.”

“It was the only thing that could get you to sleep when you were younger.” 

We spoke at the same time, laughing. “You talked me into letting you walk me home. Which didn't take much convincing. I thought you were gorgeous. That's how you found out I was a hunter. You saw the protection symbol carved right under my door knob.” 

“And you tried to say it was just a little doodle you decided to put on your door.” He chuckled. 

“And then my idiotic self decided to invite you inside and forgot I had a salt lines laid down under every threshold.” I was full out laughing now. “I was so mortified at all of my rookie mistakes. I thought you were gonna think I was crazy,” I said. 

“And then I just finally asked you how long you had been hunting. I visibly saw your shoulders sag and relief wash over you. I almost laughed.” I hit his knee sharply. 

“And I almost threw up! Gosh, I was so nervous. But after we got all that taken care of, we talked all night, laughed, drank. You even made me sing for you. On top of the table. I sang ‘No Scrubs.’” I wiped the tears of laughter from my eyes. 

“And you-you busted your ass when your skirt got twisted on-on your foot when you turned,” Sam stuttered out through laughter. 

I start blushing but laugh along with him. “And you fell too trying to do the Tom Cruise impression,” I howl between deep laughs. Eventually we settle back down into silence. I’m quietly drumming my fingers on my knees when Sam speaks again. 

“That was the best night of my life…..How do you expect me to just move on when some of my best memories are because of you?” He scoffs. 

I hear the shake of tears in his deep voice. I stand up and go to stand in between his legs. I grab his face in between my hands and force him to look at me, the unshed tears making the hazel of his eyes a vibrant green-tinged honey color. 

 

“You’ll find it. Trust me. You don't even have to look for it. You just have to let it come to you.” My thumbs absentmindedly stroke his cheeks. He brings his hands up to wrap around my wrists, and for a minute I think he's gonna take my hands off his face, but he just keeps them there, resting. 

“How will I know that she's actually ‘the one’ instead of just someone to try and make me move on from you?”

I think about my answer carefully. If Sam is really torn up about this as much as I think, then every girl will just be an attempt to move on. Nothing more. The eraser for my marks. I inhale deeply before I reply. 

“You'll know. You'll know in the way she looks at you and is so thankful that she is good enough to deserve you; not thinking of all the reason of why she's not. You'll know when she does something as simple as stretching around you and she doesn't snatch her arms down when she feels a draft on her stomach, afraid for you to see her body. See the body she hates.” My eyes are burning and my vision is swimming with tears. 

“You'll know when you hug her and she doesn't rearrange your arms to make sure you can't actually feel anything but her shoulders. You'll know when you go out and she doesn't distance herself from you when you pass beautiful, thin girls because she feels she embarrasses you when you have to be seen with her.” The tears are falling freely now and my hands are shaking. I card them through his hair so he doesn't feel the small earthquakes echoing from and through my bones. 

“You can't call what I did loving you, Sam. That was me giving you broken affection while I tried to let your love solve problems that weren't yours to solve. Or try to solve anyways. I just wish I would've realized that sooner.” 

He leans forward and rests his head on my stomach as he cries freely, his hands cupping the backs of my legs right above the crease of my knees. I lean down and kiss the top of his head with trembling lips and fluttering eyes. I stay there inhaling his scent to try and keep it imprinted in my brain. And we stay like this for what feels like hours; me cradling his head and his tears soaking the material of my shirt covering my stomach. 

After some time, I gently step away from him and wipe my face with my hands and then my hands on my jeans. The spots where he held them don't tingle like they did when we first met. I gather my things, contained in a duffle bag, and start heading towards the door. I open it and get my foot out of the door when I stop and turn back around. 

“Someday love will find you, Sam. You just have to let it.”

I turn back around and step out of the motel room before he can respond, closing the door on my way out. I open the door of my car and clamber in, throwing my bag back into the backseat. Starting the car, I back out, throw it in drive, and make my way out of the parking lot. 

My heart clenches as I see the black, classic car pass me and the look of confusion that graces the driver’s face.


End file.
